Surviving Him (5 page)

The girls get up bright and early the next morning; we have breakfast then set about getting ready for Kayleigh’s big day. Ten years old already, how time slips by in a flash; it felt like only yesterday she was born, on a roasting hot summer’s day in Edinburgh.

We arrive by taxi to the Holyrood building; it is a brand new build compared to the old Scottish buildings, and green gardens surround it. Different coloured patterns stretch up along the side of the brickwork. The warm July sun hits my skin as we step out of the taxi. We are led through the massive glass doors at the main entrance by people who work there.

“Wow, the Scottish parliament building is awesome outside.” Kayleigh is so excited she can’t contain herself. Amy is taking in all her surroundings.

“You two look utterly beautiful, my two princesses. I’m so proud of you both I could cry.” I force back the tears and push them back down my throat.

“Mum, please don’t do that your mascara will run, and then you will start rubbing your eyes, and look like a panda.”

With that, I can’t stop myself from smiling.

All the local newspaper and news crews wait patiently for the Queen’s arrival, and watch all the MPs or politicians entering the building. They stop us to take photographs before we enter another part of the building.

They take some of Kayleigh and Amy together, while I stand and watch them with some of the other very excited parents.

“This is going to be one emotional day,” I said to one of the other mums standing next to me. She
was nearly in tears too and trying to force them back.

After registering at the desk, we make our way inside with our ID badges firmly in place. Kayleigh is to meet the Queen with all the other kids born on that day. For security reasons, they are not allowed to let another family member in.

Amy and I are sent to another room to watch the Queen give her speech on a big screen, and then we are taken outside to a big marquee. They have set up tables, but no chairs. We manage to find somewhere to sit, and there is lots of food and drinks for everyone.
The food is simply delicious. I have even tried delicacies I’ve never heard of before.’

The other parents line the gardens, and the marquee is packed. Men are dressed in suits and the ladies are wearing the most gorgeous cocktail dresses I have ever seen. Some of the dads are in their kilts.

There isn’t very much for Amy to do.

I get myself a big glass of white wine to calm my nerves while Amy eats until her little heart is content. She paddles her feet in the water; there is a water fountain in the middle of the very green gardens. It looks like some kind of mini concrete pond, but only deep enough to paddle your feet in, not high enough to sit in unless you are only two foot tall.

It is getting hotter by the minute.

“This is amazing, Amy. How’s your food, sweetheart?”

“It’s yummy! I really like these cheese things. Do you think Kayleigh has met the Queen yet, Mum?”

“I’m not sure, baby.” I honestly have no idea, and I feel sad for Amy as there is a party going on inside the building without us. We generally spend all our birthdays together as a family. “When we get home we will have our own party; just us, and she won’t be in there all day.”

Amy agrees that this is a great plan, and she is happy she’ll see her big sister soon.

“We will also find some time to catch up with your dad. I know how much he’s missing you.” With that, her smile gets bigger, an all-white toothy huge smile while she carries on swirling her little feet in the water.

When Kayleigh comes out of the party, she is full of excitement; her face is beaming and she is bursting to tell us all about her experience. It seems that Kayleigh had an incredible time inside; they played different games at the tables and also did some art work. She was in her element because she loves art. And, of course, meeting the Queen and the MPs was amazing for her, but more so for all of the adults than for the kids. Kayleigh seemed more interested in the party and the massive birthday cake that had all of the children’s faces on it than anything else. She tells Amy and me all about it as we move on to a big hall
and sign
the book of archives. We then head outside, straight to our taxi and travel back to our hotel.

I call my mum and tell her about our day and quickly call my mates, Rose and Katy, so they don’t worry about us Logan is on my mind during the entire ride back to the hotel, and I wonder what he has been up to all day and if he is ok?

Back in our hotel room I go for a shower. I strip off my dress, bra and knickers, kick off my killer wedges as my feet are killing me, and dive into the warm spray of the shower.

“Today has been a success and my girls are happy,” I tell myself
. “Damn this water feels so good.”

I stand there letting the water flow over my head and all around my body.

Yet, I feel so sad. What will our lives turn out like with that crazy ex-husband of mine wanting me dead and buried under the nearest block of flats? Always waiting in the wings ready to pounce and burst my bubble. And Logan miles away from us. Remembering what I went through with Ian sends a cold shiver right down my spine even though I am under the warm spray of the shower.

“He is just a monster of a person, the devil’s son. The devil himself can’t be as bad,” I say through the warm steamy spray in front of my eyes.

I don’t want my mind to be clouded with dark thoughts, but I can’t shake them off. My mind keeps going back to when I was with him.

After a while of staying in Argyll, on the west coast of Scotland with Ian, we moved to Edinburgh as he had more family there.

I fell pregnant with my first child pretty quick. I was really scared as everything was new to me, and the accent was murder to get used to, but I soon picked up the lingo.

We had to stay with his mum and dad in a place called Pilton, in Edinburgh. It was hell on earth, a dive of a location at the time. This was when I really started to get to know him; he started keeping me awake all night, until I either passed out or pissed myself.

He was paranoid about every possible thing you could think of;
he was even paranoid about the fact that I was pregnant! He would punch me in the head until I gave him the answer he considered
to be the right one.

“You are nothing but a dirty slag and that wee bastard inside you isn’t even mine!” That baby inside me is my pride and joy; my little baby wasn’t even here yet, and I loved her so much already. I knew that I would do whatever I had to, to protect her.

Ian would accuse me of sleeping with other men, though how the hell he expected me to sleep with someone else when he never left my side, I really don't know. We never, ever, went anywhere without each other, it was just something he insisted on. I thought it was kind of sexy at first that he wanted to take me to work and pick me up like he was a protective, alpha male. It took a while for me to realise just how screwed up his logic was.

It was all part of his control. He didn't want me to have the baby at all. He would terrorise me, he would beat me and boot me hard in the stomach a few times to see if I would lose her. Just for fun.

I don't know how on earth my beautiful baby survived. Ian would put his massive hands around my throat and squeeze so hard he would choke me. I could see the hatred in his eyes; he wanted to kill me. This man was pure evil,
and he wanted me dead.

He told me I was nothing but a worthless piece of shit; that no one wants me and never will again, that nobody could ever love a dirty whore who is damaged like me.

“Stop fucking screaming, bitch. No one can hear you, it’s pointless!”
he said, screaming at the top of his lungs. “There’s no point. Take a good,
long, hard look at yourself, you ugly fucking cow! Did your mother drop you at birth and stomp on your head? “Nobody’s gonna come and help you. Even my family can’t stand you because you’re so fucking quiet when you’re over there!”

“And you are such a bloody catch,” I said in my head.

He never did understand why I never spoke much. His mum and dad always knew what was happening; what he was doing to me behind closed doors, knowing and ignoring as they could hear my cries echoing through the walls of their house. They knew what sort of state I was in.

They knew what their son was, and they did nothing because blood is thicker than water. But knowing that I was carrying their grandchild and that they never did a thing to help me, they were just as bad as him in my eyes. His rages and attacks went on for months. It felt like there was no end.

Once, Ian’s mum had heard enough of his abuse, she packed us off to his sister’s house. They lived in a flat in a rough area of the city of Edinburgh.

That’s when things went from bad to worse. I realised that nothing would ever get any better. He would intimidate me in front of his sister; I felt so humiliated and broken.

I was stupid enough to think that maybe his sister would step in and stand against him, since she’d gone through the same thing with her son’s father, but she didn't care what I was going through. She actually seemed to find it pretty funny at times.

I found that so sickening, but then that could just as easily have been her nerves. Maybe she didn't know what to do except to sit back and watch a young pregnant girl get battered and tortured under her roof. Maybe it was because she was afraid of what her big brother would do to her if she stepped in or told him to stop.

The minute I said to him, “We shouldn’t be here; we should be somewhere else away from here.” He glares at me with that cold look in his eyes.

As he gripped my throat, I stared right into his eyes; right through his angry, green, evil eyes, and the anger in them turned into a scared and haunted, terrified look. He then let go slowly of his tight grip, his eyes turning from being frightened to confused. I started to wish that I had kept my big mouth shut.

His face changed quickly to that of an angry one; again tightening his grip around my neck, squeezing and tightening the very breath from my body.

Everything turned to darkness, and I could hear screams in the background like everything was in slow motion.

“Let go of her, she’s turning blue! Let her go now! Let go, you’re killing her! STOP!!”

I felt my throat being crushed into the back of my neck. I was utterly helpless. As I came around from the darkness, his sister had me back up on the chair telling me it was okay.

“You’re ok, Dana. Hon, look at me.”

I looked at her, my vision blurred by my tears and probably a swollen eye.

“Here, this will calm your nerves.”

She handed me a double shot of vodka. It wasn’t my nerves that needed calming. I knew I needed to be at the hospital getting medical attention. I needed to make sure my baby was okay. I threw the drink that she had just handed to me on the floor.

I had survived. I couldn’t believe it. It was easily the worst fight yet, but I still felt like I couldn’t do anything. I hurt everywhere all over my body. I could barely move, but that didn’t stop him. He rushed at me again and punched me in the eye that was almost swollen shut.

I felt his thick gold rings crush my eye. My tears stung my face. He punched repeatedly.

“Do you want me to fucking kill you? Do you?”

I should have kept my mouth shut, but told him we should leave here I didn’t think before I had spoken, the words had just fallen out of my mouth. I couldn’t rewind and take them back. I knew he was totally and completely losing it. It was like walking on eggshells, saying the right things at the right time; the things that he would want to hear so that I didn’t make him angry. This time though I had totally fucked up.

I was dead. That was it. I was gone, and he kept on and on at me.

“Do you? Do you, bitch? Do you want me to? I will fucking do you in good and proper. Is that what you want?”

“No,” I cried in my head but wishing he would so it would all be over, and I wouldn’t have to live this nightmare for another day.

He was spitting and slobbering all over the place, like an angry out of control pitbull. He came and sat down right beside me so I couldn’t make a run for it, even though I was in no condition to do so. It was my own fault; I had set him off without meaning to. There was nowhere hide, nowhere to escape to.

I was shaking with terror and the more that I shook, the more he liked it, like he was getting some kind of sick thrill out of hurting me.

I could feel the blood running down my face, into my mouth and down my neck like someone had just thrown a warm glass of water at me

He spat in my face and pushed me down to the floor, and stood over the top of me. As I looked up through the blood and tears that pooled in my eyes, I saw the bottom of his boot ready to stomp all over my head.

“Please stop.”

I begged and begged him over and over.

“Please don’t do this to me, to our baby.”

I heard someone shouting and then trying to grab him off of me. It was his sister.

“You are going to kill her! That’s enough! Stop it! You’re killing her! Get off! How do you expect her to stay with you if you’re scaring and beating her to fucking death?”